Someday I'll Go Where There Ain't No Rain or Snow
by AuroraBlix
Summary: Never one to exit without style or flare, Louisiana departs from Project Freelancer with thoughts of home on her mind and no intention of returning. (NOT Agent Louisiana canon! Read the Author's Note!)


The _Mother of Invention_ was silent.

Everyone knew why.

And nobody had the will to protest the silence.

Ever since The Incident, the break-in at Freelancer Command, nothing had been the same. Gone were the missions. Gone were the training schedules. Gone was the manic need to prove yourself, to gain approval from Director Church. And gone were the agents that made Project Freelancer what it was.

Texas went AWOL. York went AWOL _with_ Texas (nobody saw _that_ coming). Maine went on an Insane Killing Spree. North and South were Missing In Action. Who the hell _knew,_ where Wyoming was? Carolina was...

Carolina was... "Lost to us while attempting to secure the objective" as the Director put it, stoic as ever.

There was no memorial service for fallen comrades. No words of wisdom in light of these harsh times. Just silence.

The leader-board, the symbol of the competition to be the best, the root of all the _manipulation_ and _back-stabbing_ and _deception_ within the Project, remained unchanged. Some thought it _was_ the memorial.

A testament to that was, all that could have continued, and all that _everyone_ wished _had_ been. Silent, of course, like all the rest.

It was a hard blow to everyone in the Project. One that they could have weathered some maintained, in the privacy of their now-unsupervised quarters in low tones and hushed whispers, had they rallied their forces and stuck together.

Had so many others not followed suit, slipping away in ones and twos until merely a handful or two remained. Some who left, did so with a dignity that mirrored that of their fortress among the stars (_silence_, in case you hadn't picked up on that recurring theme), while others... did not.

And now Louisiana, one of the better among their ranks from the get-go, she who had risen to the occasion with more grace imaginable and emerged from her sarcastic shell to comfort and keep organized those remaining agents who were now lost and ignored by their Director. Now she was gone, too.

With her, unlike many others, there had been no warning signs. No increased agitation or disgruntled mutters within the relative safety of their dwindling numbers. The loss of Louisiana was one felt by all, and it was worse than anyone could have imagined.

When so many had died, retreated from the fight, or just given up, Louisiana had (admittedly, against her better judgment) remained strong in the face of all their casualties, and all that death. She patted the heartbroken on the back, arranged training schedules for those who needed the distraction; she even revived an old tradition of hers and began baking again.

Many a soldier, Freelancer and Standard Issue alike, would wonder down the halls of the _Mother of Invention_ only to perk his head up, stick his head into the kitchen, and be pulled in by Louisiana's gravitational pull and her order to "Close the fucking door, sit the hell down, and eat the goddamn cookies". Or cupcakes. Or banana bread. Or whatever she had scrounged up the ingredients for.

No, Louisiana left Project Freelancer the same way that she entered; with her head held high, her lips twisted into a smirk, and her eyes positively _daring_ anyone to object.

But she certainly didn't do it silently.

In the true style of Agent Louisiana, she visited all the remaining agents (and even several of the Standard Issues soldiers), handed them a peanut-butter chocolate chip cookie, and told them to "keep your head up, do whatever feels right, and don't look back". She even wondered down to the infirmary and handed Agent Washington a leftover cupcake.

But only after she'd given the rest to Iowa. _Those_ ones, however, that had contained alternately blue or pink food coloring in the batter and extra icing on the top proclaiming "It's a question mark!"

In the _true_ style of Agent Louisiana. 

* * *

Director Church stood on the bridge of the once-great _Mother of Invention_, staring out the now-repaired window at the miserable, desolate planet they now rested upon.

_Oh, how the mighty have fallen_, whispered a voice in his head, sardonically. Strangely enough, the voice sounded much more like that of Agent Louisiana than his own. Of course, Louisiana had always reminded him of a much more cynical version of himself. He almost said it out loud, once. But he knew what she thought of him and knew that she would hardly consider it the compliment that he intended it to be. Instead he noted, in response to one of her ever-present remarks, that she was beginning to sound much more like Alpha with every passing day.

"Sir, I have something… you may want to see." The Counselor came up behind Director Church, the uncertainty in the man's voice breaking his reverie.

The Director looked down at the data pad he was being offered. It showed that one of the ship's escape pods had been launched and had just been detected making its way toward the Epsilon Eridani system within the Inner Colonies. His instincts told him that the fourth planet was her goal.

"It seems our dear Little Miss Uppity has seen fit to cut her losses," he remarked, dryly.

The Counselor nodded, not entirely surprised at his superior's apparent lack of interest. So very few things interested him these days.

"Should we send someone after her, Director? Or report her whereabouts to the authorities," he suggested, fiddling with the functions on the data pad, trying to determine her exact heading.

Director Church turned away from his colleague and faced the window, once again. "Neither of those, Counselor. We made a deal and we will honor it," he drawled, the exhaustion in his voice evident. "Just let her go." _Just as we've let so many others go. For the time being. _

"Of course, Director." The Counselor nodded his head in acknowledgement of his apathetic leader's orders. "But where _is_ she going, sir?" He wondered aloud, not really expecting an answer.

So it startled him when it came.

"Home, Counselor. Our Agent Louisiana is going home."

_And I mean, hell, after all she's been put through, after all_ everyone's _been put through;_ somebody _deserves to go home..._

* * *

**A/N: In response to a prompt by ProjectXA3 of DeviantArt: "How would your OC go out?" Not actual Agent Louisiana canon, so don't worry. It's just for the prompt.**

**The entire time I was writing this I could just HEAR Kim Richey singing "A Place Called Home"...**

**I repeat, this is NOT what happens at the end of "Secrets and Sins" or anything else. It's just for fun.**


End file.
